Gunning Down Romance
by Scrawlers
Summary: Love is something that doesn't exist in Tethe'allan high society. Zelos knows that a little too well. [Zelos-centric, one-shot.]


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Tales of Symphonia or any of its properties.

**Notes: **This was written forever ago and posted to Tumblr. In an attempt to update this account with some things, I decided to post it here.

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><p><strong>Gunning Down Romance<strong>

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><p>The trick to watching people was to act like you didn't notice they were there.<p>

Zelos had become a master at this over the years. It was easy to act nonchalant, to casually sip at his coffee and pretend that he didn't notice the stares that followed him from suspicious gentlemen who thought he curried too much favor with their ladies, or the blushes hidden behind the fans of noblewomen. Flippant smiles when someone did catch his attention were as easy as breathing, too. Really, it was easy to act as though he believed himself to be the center of the universe, and therefore easy to convince the vapid nobles around him that he wasn't paying attention at all.

That was their mistake.

To be disregarded, ignored—to not be noticed was key. If one didn't notice you watching them, they would behave naturally, honestly—or at least, as honest as Tethe'allan nobles ever were, which was to say "not very." Even when left to their own devices, dishonesty was so deeply ingrained in their culture that lies dripped as readily from their mouths as saliva from a dog's before a raw steak. As he sat at a table outside of a small café, sipping his coffee with a book in hand, Zelos listened as Lord Roland regaled the Baroness Cassandra with a tale of his recent successful business venture with the Lezareno company—not knowing, of course, that the Baroness had already secured control of the shares Lord Roland's estate had purchased, and was as they spoke working the conversation around not only to this point, but to the favor he would have to cash in on in order to re-secure control of that portion of his estate.

It was so typical it almost made Zelos want to vomit.

It was like that no matter where he went. Whether he was in Meltokio, Altamira, or even Sybak, there was nothing genuine to be found. There was nothing to gain from being honest—nothing to gain from allowing yourself to trust or be trusted. The commoners, Zelos supposed, had it easier; they had nothing to lose and wouldn't stand to gain even if they tried to lie their way to the top, so when it came to things like _generosity _or _trust _or _love_, they could afford to express it with a little less plastic in their smile. It was the sole privilege they could lay claim to. The nobles, on the other hand, and especially those close to Zelos' station? Well . . .

Both Lord Roland and Baroness Cassandra rose from their table, and over the top of his book Zelos saw Lord Roland kiss the Baroness' hand. She giggled and blushed, but even at his distance Zelos could see that her smile held a devious edge, while Lord Roland carried the look of a man who was cowed, at least for the moment. Lord Roland offered the Baroness his arm, and with simpering smiles the two set off down the street, laughing.

It was rumored they were to be engaged. The Baroness was the one that had started that rumor, for although Lord Roland was technically beneath her in station, his family had ties to the Church that her own did not. From the way they were acting now, Zelos would wager that she had just made their engagement a little more substantial than mere rumor, though the official announcement would likely wait until the next noble court was held.

He snapped his book shut, drained his coffee, and left the cup on the table for the café staff to collect.

The path he took back to his manor was the one that was typically the least crowded, comprised of winding back streets and small alleys between shops. Even so, it was impossible to make it back without any attention at all. Every now and then he was stopped so noblewomen could fawn over him, showering him with flattery and praises, inquiring as to whether or not he would be attending Viscountess Susanne's garden party, or whether he had heard that the Duke and Duchess Montague were having marital problems, supposedly because Duke Cedric was said to be having an affair with his servant, Marni (this was a lie, Zelos knew, though he didn't bother to share that tidbit of information; they had no reason to know that the one Duke Cedric was sleeping around with was Viscount Bartholomew). Zelos listened to all of this and gave noncommittal answers where he could, his smile winning over any who would otherwise be bothered by his dismissals of their requests and digs for gossip. By the time he returned to his manor he had a noblewoman on each arm, a few more following after. They loved him, after all. They loved the fact that he was the Chosen One, that he had more money than the whole of Tethe'alla combined, that he was stunningly beautiful due to the Church breeding him like their prized show dog. They loved him, as genuinely as anyone in Tethe'allan noble society loved anyone else.

Outside his door, he bade them farewell. He was met with the usual cries of dismay:

"Master Zelos, can't we stay a little longer?"  
>"I would love to keep you company, Master Zelos!"<br>"Please, come home with me today, I would simply love to show you this new painting Charles brought home the other day . . ."

Deflecting their cries with assurances that he would spend personal quality time with each of them at a later date, he kissed the back of Lady Marlene's hand. He spun Lady Abigail once before he pulled her in for a hug that all but made her faint in his arms, and when he brushed his hand along Countess Dahlia's cheek, her complexion rivaled the setting sun. It was enough for them, to have these personal affections lavished upon them; he was able to extricate himself from their hold, and by the time he shut the door to his manor behind him, they had already dispersed, their time with him driven from their minds as their next task filled it.

That was fine with him. In fact, he preferred it.

"Master Zelos?" Zelos turned from the door as Sebastian called to him. He was about to tell Sebastian that the usual drink would be fine when his manservant spoke again, a slight note of trepidation in his voice. "You have a visitor. Grand Duchess Elysia Dawnay is here to see you today. She is waiting in the drawing room."

"Ah, is that so?" Sebastian nodded, and Zelos couldn't muster up the energy to feel truly surprised. "Here. Return this to the bookcase, will you? I'll go talk to her."

"As you wish, sir." Sebastian took the book from Zelos' hands, and Zelos—almost wishing he were back out on the streets, though knowing it would be no better out there than it would be in the drawing room with Elysia—headed toward the drawing room.

She was there, as Sebastian had promised she would be, seated on the chaise lounge with a teacup in her hands. She looked up as he entered, her blue-violet eyes meeting his blue-gray, and she set her teacup down on the table.

"You are late."

"I wasn't aware we had an appointment," he said. She didn't answer. Instead, she merely lifted her gaze to stare at him as he crossed the room, and lifted a hand to him once he was near enough. As he had with the ladies outside, he took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips before he asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Must I need a reason to visit my fiancé?" she asked, and a frosty edge entered her voice as she added, "Heaven knows the rest of Tethe'alla's female population doesn't seem to."

Zelos smiled, though it felt more like a smirk, or perhaps a grimace. "As the Chosen, it is my duty to be there for all of the people of Tethe'alla, whenever or however they wish."

"Perhaps." Elysia rose from the chaise lounge to stand before him, and ran her hand gently down his chest. "However, as _my fiancé_, it is your duty to do as _I _wish, whenever I wish it." She allowed her fingers to linger on his abdomen, applying just enough pressure to feel it through his clothes, before she looked up to meet his eyes. The look was fleeting; in a moment she had moved past him, her hand brushing his, to head for the door. "Come. I wish for you to play the piano for me."

"As you wish," he said, and turned to follow. He would, after all, do whatever she asked of him. She was, after all, his fiancée, selected by the Church of Martel before either of them had learned to walk. The love between them was as real as it was between any other members of Tethe'allan high society. Elysia loved him—she truly did.

She loved him as much as his mother had loved his father.


End file.
